IfI wereto writeevery dayfor onehundred days,would my soulbe purged ofthis malaise;is it a thingto be dredged,dragged up –twistedand tiedlike tatteredbed sheetsknottedtogether;is therea remedyfor thisscourge;or is thisan inherentrestlessness,a fiery bluespark of eternalangst ignitingpassion – a callto write? (Originally posted February, 2017. Image my own)
Expectations artificialliving in an urban junglelonging for nature’s calm – time moves too swiftlybarely registerlet alone participate We are guests in our ownexpectation’s dysfunctionlicensed for depression a smorgasbord for abuseintentions mislaid,disappointment unavoidable The ego pretends to be openbut she’s an actress off cueplaying out a sentence – condemned to basicspraying to escapethis dystopian malfunction. (Image […]
Heart finding wings!
Good one, VJ 🙂
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Thanks Hammad!
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The lightness afterwards is beyond words.
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It’s so true. Thanks Paul.
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The letting go doesn’t come easily…
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No, it does not…
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That was my thought as well. But the letting go is liberating, even it takes a very long time to get there.
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I’ll keep working on it! 😊
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As will I!
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